Border Town (CHAPTER ONE) 边城 (第一章)

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An old imperial highway running east from Sichuan into Hunan province leads, after reaching the West Hunan border, to a little mountain town called Chadong. By a narrow stream on the way to town was a little white pagoda, below which once lived a solitary family: an old man, a girl, and a yellow dog.
As the stream meandered on, it wrapped around a low mountain, joining a wide river at Chadong some three li downstream, about a mile. If you crossed the little stream and went up over the heights, you could get to Chadong in one li over dry land. The water path was bent like a bow, with the mountain path the bowstring, so the land distance was a little shorter. The stream was about twenty zhang wide—two hundred feet—over a streambed of boulders. Though the quietly flowing waters were too deep for a boat pole to touch bottom, they were so clear you could count the fish swimming to and fro. This little stream was a major chokepoint for transit between Sichuan and Hunan, but there was never enough money to build a bridge. Instead the locals set up a square-nosed ferryboat that could carry about twenty passengers and their loads. Any more than that, and the boat went back for another trip. Hitched to a little upright bamboo pole in the prow was a movable iron ring that went around a heavily worn cable spanning the stream all the way to the other side. To ferry across, one slowly tugged on that cable, hand over fist, with the iron ring keeping the boat on track.
As the vessel neared the opposite shore, the person in charge would call out, "Steady now, take your time!" while suddenly leaping ashore holding the ring behind. The passengers, with all their goods, their horses, and their cows, would go ashore and head up over the heights, disappearing from view. The ferry landing was owned by the whole community, so the crossing was free to all. Some passengers were a little uneasy about this. When someone grabbed a few coins and threw them down on the boat deck, the ferryman always picked them up, one by one, and pressed them back into the hands of the giver, saying, in a stern, almost quarrelsome voice, "I'm paid for my work: three pecks of rice and seven hundred coppers. That's enough for me. Who needs this charity?"

But that didn't always work. One likes to feel one's done the right thing, and who feels good about letting honest labor go unrewarded? So there were always some who insisted on paying. This, in turn, upset the ferryman, who, to ease his own conscience, sent someone into Chadong with the money to buy tea and tobacco. Tying the best tobacco leaves Chadong had to offer into bundles and hanging them from his money belt, he'd offer them freely and generously to anyone in need. When he surmised from the look of a traveler from afar that he was interested in those tobacco leaves, the ferryman would stuff a few into the man's load, saying, "Elder Brother, won't you try these? Fine goods here, truly excellent; these giant leaves don't look it, but their taste is wonderful—just the thing to give as a gift!" Come June, he'd put his tea leaves into a big earthenware pot to steep in boiling water, for the benefit of any passerby with a thirst to quench.

由四川过湖南去， 靠东有一条官路。 这官路将近湘西边境到了一个地方名为“茶峒”的小山城时，有一小溪，溪边有座白色小塔，塔下住了一户单独的人家。这人家只一个老人，一个女孩子，一只黄狗。
小溪流下去，绕山岨流，约三里便汇入茶峒的大河。人若过溪越小山走去，则只一里路就到了茶峒城边。溪流如弓背，山路如弓弦，故远近有了小小差异。小溪宽约二十丈，河床为大片石头作成。静静的水即或深到一篙不能落底，却依然清澈透明，河中游鱼来去皆可以计数。小溪既为川湘来往孔道，水常有涨落，限于财力不能搭桥，就安排了一只方头渡船。这渡船一次连人带马，约可以载二十位搭客过河，人数多时则反复来去。渡船头竖了一枝小小竹竿，挂着一个可以活动的铁环，溪岸两端水槽牵了一段废缆，有人过渡时，把铁环挂在废缆上，船上人就引手攀缘那条缆索，慢慢的牵船过对岸去。
船将拢岸了，管理这渡船的，一面口中嚷着“慢点慢点”，自己霍的跃上了岸，拉着铁环，于是人货牛马全上了岸，翻过小山不见了。渡头为公家所有，故过渡人不必出钱。有人心中不安，抓了一把钱掷到船板上时， 管渡船的必为一一拾起， 依然塞到那人手心里去，俨然吵嘴时的认真神气：“我有了口量，三斗米，七百钱，够了。谁要这个！”
但不成，凡事求个心安理得，出气力不受酬谁好意思，不管如何还是有人把钱的。管船人却情不过，也为了心安起见，便把这些钱托人到茶峒去买茶叶和草烟，将茶峒出产的上等草烟，一扎一扎挂在自己腰带边，过渡的谁需要这东西必慷慨奉赠。有时从神气上估计那远路人对于身边草烟引起了相当的注意时，便把一小束草烟扎到那人包袱上去，一面说，“不吸这个吗，这好的，这妙的，味道蛮好，送人也合式！”茶叶则在六月里放进大缸里去，用开水泡好，给过路人解渴。

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The ferryman was the old man who lived below the pagoda. Seventy now, he'd kept to his place near this little stream since he was twenty. In the fifty years since, there was simply no telling how many people he'd ferried across in that boat. He was hale and hearty despite his age; it was time for him to have his rest, but Heaven didn't agree. He seemed tied to this work for life. He never mulled over what his work meant to him; he just quietly and faithfully kept on with his life here. It was the girl keeping him company who was Heaven's agent, letting him feel the power of life as the sun rose, and stopping him from thinking of expiring along with the sunlight when it faded at night. His only friends were the ferryboat and the yellow dog; his only family, that little girl.
The girl's mother, the ferryman's only child, had some fifteen years earlier come to know a soldier from Chadong through the customary exchange of amorous verses, sung by each in turn across the mountain valley. And that had led to trysts carried on behind the honest ferryman's back. When she was with child, the soldier, whose job it was to guard the farmer-soldier colonies upcountry, tried to persuade her to elope and follow him far downstream. But taking flight would mean, for him, going against his military duty, and for her, leaving her father all alone. They thought about it, but the garrison soldier could see she lacked the nerve to travel far away, and he, too, was loath to spoil his military reputation.
Though they could not join each other in life, nothing could stop them from coming together in death. He took the poison first. Not steely-hearted enough to ignore the little body growing within her, the girl hesitated. By now her father, the ferryman, knew what was happening, but he said nothing, as if still unaware. He let the days pass as placidly as always. The daughter, feeling shame but also compassion, stayed at her father's side until the child was born, whereupon she went to the stream and drowned herself in the cold waters. As if by a miracle, the orphan lived and matured. In the batting of an eye, she had grown to be thirteen. Because of the compelling deep, emerald green of bamboo stands covering the mountains on either side by the stream where they lived, the old ferryman, without a second thought, named the girl after what was close at hand: Cuicui, or "Jade Green."

管理这渡船的，就是住在塔下的那个老人。活了七十年，从二十岁起便守在这小溪边，五十年来不知把船来去渡了若干人。年纪虽那么老了。本来应当休息了，但天不许他休息，他仿佛便不能够同这一分生活离开。他从不思索自己的职务对于本人的意义，只是静静的很忠实的在那里活下去。代替了天，使他在日头升起时，感到生活的力量，当日头落下时，又不至于思量与日头同时死去的，是那个伴在他身旁的女孩子。他唯一的朋友为一只渡船与一只黄狗，唯一的亲人便只那个女孩子。
女孩子的母亲，老船夫的独生女，十五年前同一个茶峒军人，很秘密的背着那忠厚爸爸发生了暧昧关系。有了小孩子后，这屯戍军士便想约了她一同向下游逃去。但从逃走的行为上看来，一个违悖了军人的责任，一个却必得离开孤独的父亲。经过一番考虑后，军人见她无远走勇气自己也不便毁去作军人的名誉，就心想：一同去生既无法聚首，一同去死当无人可以阻拦，首先服了毒。女的却关心腹中的一块肉，不忍心，拿不出主张。事情业已为作渡船夫的父亲知道，父亲却不加上一个有分量的字眼儿，只作为并不听到过这事情一样，仍然把日子很平静的过下去。女儿一面怀了羞惭一面却怀了怜悯，仍守在父亲身边，待到腹中小孩生下后，却到溪边吃了许多冷水死去了。在一种近于奇迹中，这遗孤居然已长大成人，一转眼间便十三岁了。为了住处两山多篁竹，翠色逼人而来，老船夫随便为这可怜的孤雏拾取了一个近身的名字，叫作“翠翠”。

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Cuicui grew up under the sun and the wind, which turned her skin black as could be. The azure mountains and green brooks that met her eyes turned them clear and bright as crystal.
Nature had brought her up and educated her, making her innocent and spirited, in every way like a little wild animal. Yet she was as docile and unspoiled as a mountain fawn, wholly unacquainted with cruelty, never worried, and never angry. When a stranger on the ferry cast a look at her, she would shoot him a glance with those brilliant eyes, as if ready to flee into the hills at any instant; but once she saw that he meant her no harm, she would go back to playing by the waterside as if nothing had happened.
In rainy weather and fair, the old ferryman kept at his post in the prow of the ferryboat. When someone came to cross the stream, he'd stoop to grasp the bamboo cable and use both hands to pull the boat along to the other shore. When he was tired, he stretched out to sleep on the bluffs by the waterside.
If someone on the other side waved and hollered that he wanted to cross, Cuicui would jump into the boat to save her grandpa the trouble and swiftly ferry the person across, pulling on the cable smoothly and expertly without a miss. Sometimes, when she was in the boat with her grandpa and the yellow dog, she'd tug the cable along with the ferryman till the boat got to the other side. As it approached the far shore, while the grandfather hailed the passengers with his "Steady now, take your time," the yellow dog would be the first to jump on land, with the tie rope in his mouth. He'd pull the boat to shore with that rope clenched between his teeth, just as if it were his job.

翠翠在风日里长养着，把皮肤变得黑黑的，触目为青山绿水，一对眸子清明如水晶。自然既长养她且教育她，为人天真活泼，处处俨然如一只小兽物。人又那么乖，如山头黄麂一样，从不想到残忍事情，从不发愁，从不动气。平时在渡船上遇陌生人对她有所注意时，便把光光的眼睛瞅着那陌生人，作成随时皆可举步逃入深山的神气，但明白了人无机心后，就又从从容容的在水边玩耍了。
老船夫不论晴雨，必守在船头。有人过渡时，便略弯着腰，两手缘引了竹缆，把船横渡过小溪。有时疲倦了，躺在临溪大石上睡着了，人在隔岸招手喊过渡，翠翠不让祖父起身，就跳下船去，很敏捷的替祖父把路人渡过溪，一切皆溜刷在行，从不误事。有时又和祖父黄狗一同在船上，过渡时和祖父一同动手，船将近岸边，祖父正向客人招呼：“慢点，慢点”时，那只黄狗便口衔绳子，最先一跃而上，且俨然懂得如何方为尽职似的，把船绳紧衔着拖船拢岸。

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When the weather was clear and fine and there was nothing to do because no one wanted to cross, Grandpa and Cuicui would sun themselves atop the stone precipice in front of their home. Sometimes they'd throw a stick into the water from above and whistle to the yellow dog to jump down from the heights to fetch it. Or Cuicui and the dog would prick up their ears while Grandpa told them stories of war in the city many, many years ago. Other times, they'd each press a little upright bamboo flute to their lips and play the melodies of bridal processions, in which the groom went to the bride's house and brought her home. When someone came to cross, the old ferryman would lay down his flute and ferry the person across on the boat by himself, while the girl, still on the cliff, would call out in a high-pitched voice, just as the boat took off, "Grandpa, Grandpa, listen to me play. You sing!"
At midstream, Grandpa would suddenly break out in joyful song; his hoarse voice and the reedy sound of the flute pulsated in the still air, making the whole stream seem to stir.
Yet the reverberating strains of song brought out the stillness all around.
When the passengers heading for Chadong from East Sichuan included some calves, a flock of sheep, or a bridal cortege with its ornate palanquin, Cuicui would rush to do the ferrying.
Standing in the boat's prow, she'd move the craft along the cable languidly and the crossing would be quite slow. After the calves, sheep, or palanquin were ashore, Cuicui would follow, escorting the pack up the hill, and stand there on the heights, fixing her eyes on them for a long ways before she returned to the ferryboat to pull it back to the shore and home. All alone, she'd softly bleat like the lambs, low like a cow, or pick wildflowers to bind up her hair like a bride—all alone.
The mountain town of Chadong was only a li from the ferry dock. When in town to buy oil or salt, or to celebrate the New Year, the grandfather would stop for a drink. When he stayed home, the yellow dog would accompany Cuicui as she went to town for supplies. What she would see in the general store—big piles of thin noodles made from bean starch, giant vats of sugar, firecrackers, and red candles—made a deep impression on her. When she got back to her grandfather, she'd go on about them endlessly. The many boats on the river in town were much bigger than the ferryboat and far more intriguing, quite unforgettable to Cuicui.

风日清和的天气，无人过渡，镇日长闲，祖父同翠翠便坐在门前大岩石上晒太阳。或把一段木头从高处向水中抛去，嗾使身边黄狗自岩石高处跃下，把木头衔回来。或翠翠与黄狗皆张着耳朵，听祖父说些城中多年以前的战争故事。或祖父同翠翠两人，各把小竹作成的竖笛，逗在嘴边吹着迎亲送女的曲子。过渡人来了，老船夫放下了竹管，独自跟到船边去，横溪渡人，在岩上的一个，见船开动时，于是锐声喊着：
“爷爷，爷爷，你听我吹，你唱！”
爷爷到溪中央便很快乐的唱起来，哑哑的声音同竹管声振荡在寂静空气里，溪中仿佛也热闹了一些。（实则歌声的来复，反而使一切更寂静一些了。）
有时过渡的是从川东过茶峒的小牛，是羊群，是新娘子的花轿，翠翠必争看作渡船夫，站在船头，懒懒的攀引缆索，让船缓缓的过去。牛羊花轿上岸后，翠翠必跟着走，站到小山头，目送这些东西走去很远了，方回转船上，把船牵靠近家的岸边。且独自低低的学小羊叫着，学母牛叫着，或采一把野花缚在头上，独自装扮新娘子。
茶峒山城只隔渡头一里路，买油买盐时，逢年过节祖父得喝一杯酒时，祖父不上城，黄狗就伴同翠翠入城里去备办东西。到了卖杂货的铺子里，有大把的粉条，大缸的白糖，有炮仗，有红蜡烛，莫不给翠翠很深的印象，回到祖父身边，总把这些东西说个半天。那里河边还有许多上行船，百十船夫忙着起卸百货。这种船只比起渡船来全大得多，有趣味得多，翠翠也不容易忘记。